


Pieces of Me (Pieces of You)

by allofthefandoms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Graphic Sex, Post Avengers, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:24:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthefandoms/pseuds/allofthefandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil is dead and Clint doesn’t know what to do without the steady voice in his ear, so he does nothing.</p>
<p>Phil has been dead for a week, and the only reason Clint is eating is because Natasha, the ever watchful alpha that she has always been, is making him eat Cup Noodle and the occasional apple.</p>
<p>Phil has been dead for a month and Clint goes into his first heat since Loki.  He staggers to medical, sweating and soaked with slick, begging them to make it go away.  He hasn’t had a medically blocked heat since his first one, and the drugs burn, burn like fire, but it’s better than sobbing around a knotting toy, begging for an alpha who will never come.</p>
<p>Phil has been dead for 6 months and suddenly he’s not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces of Me (Pieces of You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mzpineapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mzpineapple/gifts).



> For the Lump of Coul Appreciation Event over on Livejournal! I had a great prompt and had a lot of fun with this.

Phil is dead and Clint doesn’t know what to do without the steady voice in his ear, so he does nothing.

Phil has been dead for a week, and the only reason Clint is eating is because Natasha, the ever watchful alpha that she has always been, is making him eat Cup Noodle and the occasional apple.

Phil has been dead for a month and Clint goes into his first heat since Loki.  He staggers to medical, sweating and soaked with slick, begging them to make it go away.  He hasn’t had a medically blocked heat since his first one, and the drugs burn, burn like fire, but it’s better than sobbing around a knotting toy, begging for an alpha who will never come.

Phil has been dead for 6 months and suddenly he’s not.

Clint smells him first, and it bowls him over.  He knows that smell, and the fact that it belongs to a dead man makes him weak in the knees, stomach turning.  Phil is dead.  He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s…right here?

“Oh baby boy, I’m sorry.”  Clint knows those hands.  He _knows_ them.  And that smell.  That smell is all around him and 6 months of repressed tears burble out of him in a desperate wave.  Clint doesn’t think he’s ever cried like this, not even when he was a baby.  He had never cried so deeply from such a raw, pained place.  He only notices that he’s been scooped up when there’s a hand under him, and Clint buries his face in the crook of Phil’s neck and lets himself be carried.

~ ~ ~

Phil hates himself for what he did to his boy.  Clint is 20 pounds lighter, the muscle melted away by half a year of neglect that’s his fault.  His eyes are set deep in black ink, and Phil knows he’s been dreaming.  Dreaming of Loki, most likely, and of Phil’s blood, his _alpha’s_ blood.  It makes his stomach roll, and he kisses his exhausted omega’s forehead.

That first night, Phil doesn’t sleep.  He can’t sleep.  He has to be on watch, on guard.  His omega is hurting and he has to fix it.  This place is too haunted, and there are ghosts around every corner, the ghosts of lies and death and pain and Phil decides at 3:30 in the morning that he is taking as much time off as he can wrangle and taking Clint somewhere where they can be mates before anything else, where Loki and SHIELD and the Avengers aren’t anything besides distant but painful memories.

Norway, Phil decides.  Hell, a train trip throughout all of Europe might be good.  The fjords, London, Paris, Rome.  Romance his boy the way he properly deserved.  Wine, cheese, fancy hotels, everything.

Clint deserved it.

~ ~ ~

When Clint wakes to find a warm body pressed against his back, he flinches and falls right out of bed, making Phil start.

“Baby, it’s okay,” Phil murmurs, leaping up to pull Clint into his arms so the omega can breathe in his alpha’s scent.  “Shhh…”

Clint is sobbing again, though with less force than the night before.  There’s bile in Phil’s throat hearing that desperate lonely noise, but he knows it will get better.  And the jag is over quickly, Clint pulling away slightly so he can wipe at his face.  He still looks like he doesn’t believe Phil is there, but he kisses Phil softly.

“I want to get away,” Phil said softly.  “I remember you always said you wanted to go to Norway, see the fjords.  I know someone who has a little cottage up north.  Maybe even enjoy all those cities we’ve only ever seen on missions.”  Clint looks up at him with puppy dog eyes.

“Just the two of us?”

“Just the two of us.”

~ ~ ~

Clint is quiet, too quiet.

Natasha explained to Phil just how bad it was, and Phil is pathetically grateful Clint is even eating three square meals now.  He’s putting on weight slowly, but it’s soft and fat, the muscle tone not returning as fast as the weight.  Clint does work out some, but he’s still listless, and Phil keeps him close.  He doesn’t know if it’s residual from Loki, the 6 months of Phil being gone, or the lingering fear of the others who had watched Clint take down the Hellicarrier, but the week it takes Phil to organize their vacation is too much.

There’s going to be a little cottage waiting for them, clinging to a mountain overlooking clear deep blue water.  It’s theirs for two weeks, and then it’s a week in London and a week in Paris.  Tony pulled out the stops, reigned in only by Pepper’s common sense and good taste, and when Phil complains about the price tag, Tony just shakes his head.

“Consider it a ‘thank goodness you’re not dead’ present” he had said with a grin, and Phil is too grateful to roll his eyes.

~ ~ ~

When Clint sees the house his eyes light up.  He is more alive in that one moment than he has been since Phil returned, and it makes Phil’s heart ache.  He runs to the door, and Phil lets him unlock the door and push his way inside.

“It’s perfect,” he says, turning back to Phil.

Phil just smiles.

~ ~ ~

Three days into their trip, Phil wakes to find his nose flooded with hormones.  Clint is in the bathroom, on his hands and knees as the cool water runs over him.

Heat.  Clint has gone into heat.

“Baby,” Phil said from the doorway, grabbing a fluffy towel.  “Get out of the shower and let me help you.”  Clint whimpers and there is another rush of scent.  This one’s going to be bad.

“Been on suppressants for the past 5 months,” Clint chokes out as Phil turns off the water.  “Couldn’t…Couldn’t manage without you.”

Clint is still light enough that Phil can just scoop him into his arms.  Clint clings like a limpet, mouthing desperately at Phil’s neck.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Phil murmurs, soothing nonsense falling from his lips even as he bats away his own guilt and self-loathing.  Nothing could be done about the past.  His omega needed him now.

Spreading out the towel over the bed, Phil let his gaze run over Clint.  He is sopping, legs shiny with slick even after the shower, and the smell goes right to Phil’s head, making him dizzingly hard.  He strips, trying to always keep skin to skin contact with Clint, who’s moaning and shaking.

“I’m here,” Phil murmurs, slipping into Clint’s body with one gentle thrust.  Clint is sobbing now, tears freely running down his face.

“You came back,” Clint breathes with every thrust.

Phil can only kiss his face, swearing he will never leave again.

~ ~ ~

The heat is over quickly, for all its intensity, and Phil can’t help but wonder if Clint’s carrying, though there is no outward sign yet.  They spend the rest of the week taking long walks and talking, and Clint is livelier every day, and Phil can’t help but think it’s more than just the wind blowing color into Clint’s cheeks.

“So, London and Paris next, huh,” Clint said, curled up by Phil on their last night in Norway.  The fire was crackling warmly, and there was just a hint of bite in the late summer air.

“You deserve to be wined and dined after all I put you through.”

“Oh God, please tell me you didn’t leave this all up to Tony.”

“I left it up to Pepper, never fear.  It’s just Tony’s money.  And his jet.”

Clint laughed, eyes bright, and Phil knew they would be okay.


End file.
